


The One Where Elain Get's Drunk (And The Story Ends)

by aztec234



Series: The One Where Elain Has A Tongue Stud [3]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alcohol, Assault, Clare is the wimgwoman everybody needs, Drinking, Elain punches a dude, F/M, I need a Clare, Kissing, Tongue Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25221172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aztec234/pseuds/aztec234
Summary: The sequel to ‘The One Where Elain Definitely Did Not Have A Tongue Stud The Last Time Azriel Talked To Her’. But from dual points of view this time.
Relationships: Azriel & Cassian (ACoTaR), Azriel & Morrigan (ACoTaR), Elain Archeron & Clare Beddor, Elain Archeron/Azriel
Series: The One Where Elain Has A Tongue Stud [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711153
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	The One Where Elain Get's Drunk (And The Story Ends)

**Author's Note:**

> Read it on [Tumblr](https://aztec234.tumblr.com/post/623439733254750209/the-one-where-elain-gets-drunk-and-the-story).  
> Read it on [FanFiction](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13641465/1/The-One-Where-Elain-Get-s-Drunk-And-The-Story-Ends).
> 
>  **Warnings:** Language. A punch. A scene where a dude harasses Elain. Alcohol consumption. Mentions of sex and masturbation. Kissing.

This is madness, Elain thought as she watched Clare toss back the alcohol.

This is—

This is—

“This isn’t proper school behavior, Clare,” Elain whined as she watched her dormmate refill her glass with liquor before drinking it all in one giant gulp.

“All behavior is appropriate when it’s the beginning of a new academic year, Elain,” Clare drunkenly hiccuped, swaying alarmingly as she waved a tequila bottle in the air. “Loosen up a little!”

Elain lunged, intending on snatching the bottle out of Clare’s hand, only for her to hop back. “I don’t really see the appeal in that, so please, give me the bottle.”

“Nu-uh.”

“Clare.”

“I ain’t giving you the bottle.”

“Give. Me. The bottle.”

“Over. My. Dead body.”

“Clare, I swear to God—”

“Stop sounding like my mom! You know, when they make a movie about my life, I’m gonna make sure they cast you as her.”

“Clare, I’m studying to be a botanist, not an actress.”

“Don’t care.”

Elain sighed. “What do I have to do to persuade you to stop drinking?”

Clare hummed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Um, let me think.” She grinned fiendishly then, and Elain felt as if she had walked into a trap. “Oh, I know! Attend the party that I’m throwing in an hour, and the bottle’s yours!”

Elain blinked, and it took just one second more for Clare’s words to sink in. “ _You’re throwing a party?!_ ”

“Yes, and everybody’s invited. Including Azriel. And you _have_ to talk to him. No ‘its’ and ‘buts’. You both have been dancing around your feelings long enough.”

Elain gaped at Clare. “ _You can’t just do that_!”

Clare waved her hand in the dismissively. “Newsflash honey, I can. And I will. Since both of you have decided to act like complete dumbasses, I’ll be playing Cupid. And I’ll do anything it takes, even if it means locking you both in a closet so you can sort all your feelings out.”

Elain sputtered as Clare turned around to walk out of their dorm. “Where are you throwing this party?! And what about the teachers?!”

“Teachers don’t care, Elain. We had around what had to be some six-seven parties last year, and none of them gave a fuck. And we’re using the gymnasium.”

“Oh my god.”

Clare turned to give her a big smile before closing the dorm door. “Remember to wear something nice!”

Elain stood there, still facing the door, and cursed. “Bloody hell.”

* * *

Elain grumbled, pushing her face further into her pillow.

She was pissed with Clare.

What gave her the right to throw a party and decide whether or not she and Azriel got together?!

Then again, she _was_ right. They both had been dancing around their feelings for quite some time.

She sighed, rising up on her forearms to dig under her mattress, where she had hidden her embarrassingly large stash of romance novels. If Clare ever found out that she liked reading them, she’d tease her mercilessly.

After five minutes of mindlessly reading the same page again and again – her brain had stopped registering the words after the third time the female protagonist had referred to her husband as _a hunk of melted chocolate heaven_ , like seriously, who even wrote this stuff? – she flopped on her back and took to staring at her ceiling, hoping that some sort of advice would be etched on the white paint.

No such luck.

Elain rubbed her eyes. Maybe the party wasn’t such a bad idea.

_No!_

Elain was a good student. She got good grades. She volunteered in animal shelters. She was the _sensible_ sibling out of her sisters. Feyre was the main show, the life of every party and Nesta was the one who’d out-drink everybody after they bet that she’d never be able to beat them. Elain was the one who’d wait at home for them with two tablets of aspirin, a jug of water, and a speech about the dangers of alcohol and how it could harm the body.

She wasn’t supposed to go to parties and get drunk, no matter how many times Feyre told her that she was missing out on college life.

And it wasn’t like she’d never gone to a party before!

 _Dinner with Clare’s parents and drunken fests every time one of your plants die don’t count as parties,_ a voice sounding suspiciously like Feyre’s reminded her.

Elain grumbled. “Goddammit, I know!”

“Are you talking to yourself or have you finally gone mad enough to start conversations with your plants?”

Elain glanced up to look at Clare, who was carrying a plastic bag. “Glad to see that you’ve lost the bottle.”

Clare snorted, dumping the bag on her bed. “I have many talents, Elain. Enough to earn the titles of ‘Deluxe Multi-Tasker’ and ‘Crazy Daredevil’. But even I’m smart enough to know that its practically impossible to drink alcohol while changing your clothes.”

Shifting into a seated-position, Elain gave Clare an impressed look. “Dressing up for a party? I’m shocked.”

“Har, har,” Clare sarcastically muttered, pulling several dresses out of the bag. “There are some transfers from the Spring Court University, and I want to look nice. Say, which one do you think I should wear?”

Elain gingerly lifted one dress up with her pinky. “I literally have swimsuits with more coverage than this. Are you seriously gonna’ were one of these?”

Clare didn’t answer, too busy yanking her sweater and shirt off.

Elain sifted through the pile of fabric, looking for something that seemed even a bit decent. “This one?”

“Too flashy.”

“How about this one?”

“Nah.”

“This?”

“No. Just, no.”

“And this?”

“Doesn’t that patch of sequins kind of remind you of Nicholas Cage’s face?”

“…I literally did not see that until you pointed it out. Um, I like this one.”

“That _would_ look great with my cheetah print boots, except I left them at home.”

Elain sighed staring at the heftily reduced pile of clothes until one dress caught her eye. “Hey, how about this one?”

Clare tilted her head, giving the dress a quizzical look. “Hmm, it _does_ look nice.” She took the dress from Elain, glancing between it and her. “But you know what? I think it’ll look better on you.”

Elain blushed right to the roots of her hair. “I- _what_? _No!_ Clare, this is something that I wouldn’t wear in a _million_ years!”

Clare pouted. “But it would look good on you! Come on! Do you want to seduce Azriel or not?”

If Elain’s face hadn’t been red before, it certainly was now. “ _I’m not seducing anybody!_ ”

Clare grinned fiendishly. “Not yet you aren't!”

* * *

“Do I have to go?” Azriel moaned, banging the bathroom door with his fist.

“Yes!” Mor called from inside. “Clare said that Elain would be there, and you have to talk to her.”

Azriel groaned. “Why?”

“Because,” Cassian said, leaning against the doorframe of their dorm, “all of us are extremely tired of you both denying that you like each other.”

“Yeah, except Elain doesn’t like me like that.”

“Oh please,” Rhys snorted, not looking away from the tiny closet that held all his shirts. “If Clare says that she likes you, she likes you.”

“Oh? And how does Clare know that Elain likes me?”

“Because their dormmates,” Mor replied, opening the bathroom door. “And best friends.”

If Azriel still had that ridiculous crush on Mor that he did, years ago, he would have blushed and choked on his own spit. Now, he just gave her an alarmed look. “Mor, what in cauldron's name are you wearing?”

“What, this?” Mor asked, tugging down the cloth that shouldn’t count as a dress. “I picked this out from that thrift store me and Andromeda went to.”

“Where you the one who picked this out, or Andromeda?”

A slight pink tinge washed over Mor’s cheeks. “Uh, I—”

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “For all our sakes Mor, please stop wearing the clothes your girlfriend picks out for you.”

“Why not? They look good on me.”

“Yes, but the clothes Andromeda picks out for you are meant to be worn with her, and her _alone_.”

Mor giggled, patting his arm as she walked to Rhysand. “Oh, Az, when you and Elain get together, I’m sure she’ll have some clothes that she’ll wear for you, and you _alone_.”

Azriel’s cheeks burst with colors. “ _Mor!_ ”

Amren snorted from where she was lounging on Cassian’s bed. “Don’t say that shit, Mor. You’ll give Az an aneurysm.”

“ _No, she will not!_ ”

“See,” Mor said, pointing at Azriel. “He said so himself. By the way, how’s my makeup?”

“Brilliant,” Cassian replied. “Amren, you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

Amren hummed. “Varian’s not arriving until a week later, so no point in coming. I’ll just watch some 2 Broke Girls or something.”

Rhysand snorted, his head buried in his second closet, which held all his pants. “You watch that show some more, and you’re gonna end up just like Max.”

Amren smirked. “What else can I do? I found my soul sister, albeit fictional, and I’m gonna keep her.

Mor snickered. “Times like these make me wonder if you love Max more or Varian.”

“Why not both?”

“You can’t love a fictional character!” Cassian protested.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I can't hear you over the hotness of fictional characters compared to real-life people. Go fuck yourself.”

Ignoring Cassian’s grumbling, Azriel turned to Mor. “You really will drag me to the party, won't you?”

“Uh, duh.” Mor turned away from Rhysand, who had finally found an outfit that he was satisfied with and was walking out of the dorm. “You’re coming, and I’m not gonna let you leave until you sort things out with Elain.”

Azriel sighed. “This is going to be disastrous.”

Amren snorted.

As he walked out of the door himself, he turned to flip Amren his middle finger, who only proceeded to laugh harder.

* * *

“Elain!” Clare whined outside her bathroom door. “What’s taking you so long?! Come on!”

“I’m coming! I'm coming!” Elain grumbled, tugging on the straps of her dress. “This thing is fucking complicated.”

“You know, I'm finding this new change in you extremely attractive. I mean, do you have any clue how hot you sound when you swear? Mother above, Azriel is gonna be one lucky bastard—”

Elain yanked the door open, her cheeks flushed. “Oh my god, Clare!”

Her roommate ignored her, choosing instead to squeal in excitement. “ _Holy fucking shit!_ You look amazing!”

Elain ducked her head, the tips of her ears burning red. “My makeup looks fine, right?”

“Honey, you look wonderful! Wait a moment.” Clare spun and made her way to her desk, digging in one of the drawers before coming back, clutching one of her lipsticks from her extensive collection. “Here! This would suit you.”

Pulling the cap off, Elain took a second to examine the color, before turning around to swipe the color on and glance at the mirror. “Huh, guess you were right.”

Clare’s reflection grinned in the mirror. “Keep it. You can give it back in the morning. Holy shit nuggets, you're gonna make Azriel forget his entire vocabulary.”

“ _Clare!_ ”

* * *

Azriel was right at the back of the gymnasium, with nobody except a couple of students all huddled in one group, slyly smoking cigarettes. The smoke was clouding his nose, giving him the constant urge to sneeze, but he knew that if he moved, Mor’s hawk-like eyes would find him and drag him to talk to Elain.

It wasn’t like he didn't want to talk to Elain.

Things had been awkward between them since he had run out on her – which had been an incredibly horrible decision, he now acknowledged. It would have been a much better idea to talk it out with her instead of avoiding her until the year let out.

And now they only had a last year of college ahead of them, and then real life. Elain would be off traveling the world and helping scientists discover new species of plants and Azriel… well, Azriel would get a job with the company that Rhysand’s dad owned, and then work eight hours in an office for the rest of his life.

It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t the thrill of traveling, like what his mom did before she died, but it was safe. It was stable. It was…

Completely and utterly something he did not want, but it was the least he could do after everything Rhysand’s father had done for him: taking him in, raising him, paying for his education.

“Hey,” Cassian muttered, coming up to stand next to him. “Stop brooding.”

“I'm not brooding.”

“Yeah, you are. You got your brooding face on. It’s when your eyebrows furrow and your lips start pouting and you look like you’re going to cry—”

“Okay, okay,” Azriel hastily said. “I get it. I have a brooding face which makes me look like I’m going to start bawling at any second. You’re point?”

Cassian stared at him, before sighing and taking a sip of his drink. “You know, I never really understood why you’re so determined to work for Rhysand’s dad, even though you know you’d rather travel. I know you feel as if you owe him for taking you in, but he took me in too, and you don’t see me tying my ass to the family business. No sir, culinary arts it is for me.”

He clapped Azriel on the shoulder. “He won't mind you pursuing a different profession. Remember that time when you proclaimed that you were going to become the best photographer in the world? He bought you that camera and all those expensive films. He supported your dream then, he’ll support you now too.”

Azriel grimaced. “I feel like I owe him though. After everything he’s done for me—”

“He’s literally our father, Az. None of us owe him anything other than gratitude for putting a roof over our heads.”

Cassian looked away to sweep the gymnasium. “Look bright, Azzy. Elain’s here.”

See, there’s a reason why Azriel prefers to use his head over his heart.

Simply because: it provided better advice.

But then there were the times when his heart just _had_ to come ahead, and that was when shit usually hit the fan. Hard.

So when Azriel’s brain screamed _don’t do it! It’s not worth it!_ his heart had to butt in and say _suck it bitch I’mma look at her_.

And so Azriel did.

And choked.

On a normal school day, Elain looked sleep-deprived – her sleep schedule was horrible, he had observed. She spent more time in the campus greenhouse then anywhere, choosing to be there even during the mealtimes, and the only times she left was when the greenhouse had to be locked – so she could sleep, albeit reluctantly – and to attend the weekly lectures the biology and science teachers gave.

Then, there would be bags under her eyes, a coffee cup permanently attached to her hand, a messy bun on the top of her head, and no makeup, exposing her almost invisible smatter of freckles.

But on days that Clare managed to get Elain to eat a little more than a sandwich and an apple and practically tied her to her bed so she could get some sleep, her skin would look radiant, her eyes would look brighter, and she would – rarely though – apply some lip balm.

Those days were honestly both the bane and savior of Azriel. Because while Elain didn’t own any lip balms, Clare did. All tinted. And then for the rest of the day, Elain’s lips would glisten with unique shades of peach, pink, and red, and Azriel would have to physically restrain himself from marching up to her and kissing her.

And that one time, when they both had been biology partners, Elain had leaned in close enough for him to smell the honey in her shampoo, and he hadn’t been able to look her in the eye anymore – probably because he had excused himself to his room and then shamelessly masturbated to the memory of the lace edges of her bra, which had been peaking out from behind the collar of her shirt.

But today, well…

Today was different.

Because Azriel had never seen Elain in a dress, let alone one _this_ revealing.

It was black. And lacy. With no sleeves. And _glittery_. It hugged every curve perfectly and made her look stunning. Her hair was pulled in its usual messy bun, except that she had added pins to it. Her cheeks were shimmery, her mascara black, and her lips were rosy and glossy.

 _Azriel could see her legs_.

Azriel had never seen Elain’s legs before. She never had worn shorts, like, ever. And seeing them, it felt like a sin to ever even try to hide them.

And then she turned around – and Azriel had so _not_ been ready for it – and he could see two straps crisscrossing over the expanse of her back.

So yes, not only was Elain wearing a dress, but he could also see her legs and back.

It was a blessing. And a curse. Because Azriel couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

It seemed Elain had already been there a while, judging by her cup, which she was steadily drinking out of, and the fact that she was barefoot.

And she wasn’t enjoying herself.

It made sense though. Elain hated parties, and only ever came to them if Clare literally dragged her there, and even then she’d leave within the first half-hour.

Azriel tracked her movements as she set her cup down and padded out of the gymnasium.

“Go to her,” Cassian said, nudging his shoulder. “And don’t come back until you both have _talked_.”

* * *

Elain didn’t realize what was happening until she felt the presence over her shoulder.

Honestly, she had left the party in an effort to get away from all the alcohol – of which she had drunk _quite_ a lot – and the smoke of the cigarettes the students at the back of the gymnasium had been smoking.

The mixture of smells and sensations had been clouding her senses, making her feel dizzy and lethargic. Which was probably why she didn’t notice the boy until he had sidled right behind her.

“Well, babe, you’re quite a knockout.”

His hair was matted with sweat, his eyes were glazed over, his shirt declared him a student at the Spring Court University, and his breath reeked of alcohol.

Elain couldn’t remember his name though. Then again, Clare had spat out so many, she wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t able to remember half of them.

“Thanks, but I’m not interested.”

The boy obviously didn’t get the hint, because a smirk spread across his face and he leaned in close. “Don’t act too tough, girlie. That dress you’re wearing is just begging me to fuck ya.”

Words couldn’t describe the rage that immediately flooded Elain’s veins. “I’m wearing this dress to look nice. It’s not an invitation for you to have sex with me.”

He tittered – Elain now recalled that his name was something that sounded like the Andes – and leaned in even closer, which forced Elain to take a step back to avoid their faces colliding. “Now, don’t act like that sweetheart. I’m a nice guy, and we’ve got all night.”

“Yeah, well I don’t. Goodbye.” Elain spun on her heel, intending to walk away, only to be pulled back by the boy – his name was Andras, she now recalled – as he grabbed her wrist. “ _What the fuck?!_ ”

Andras yanked her forward, almost pulling her into his chest. “Ya can't just walk away from me! Can’t ya see I’m trying to be a nice guy!”

Elain glared. “Let go of me!”

The boy let out a highly un-attractive laugh, high-pitched and whiny and sounding very much like a donkey’s bray. “And whaddya’ gonna’ do if I don’t?”

Elain’s gaze darkened. Her fingernails were digging into her palm. The alcohol must have been making her brain hazy because she suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to _hit_ him. “Dislocate your jaw.”

“What are you, like five foot four? How the hell would you even—”

Whatever he was going to say – Elain was now positive his name was Andras – was drowned out as she sank her fist in his face, which made _the_ most satisfying cracking sound as it came in contact with his jaw.

Time seemed to slow down as his body lurched backward, hitting the floor. “I’m five foot six, asshole.”

Andras didn’t reply. He was out cold.

Elain snorted, unable to help herself. “Guess I _am_ quite a knock-out, ey?”

“Elain?”

Not having noticed the second person, she yelped and spun around, only to come face-to-face with—

“Azriel?!”

The anger that she was experiencing faded, replaced with absolute embarrassment. Azriel saw her take a guy out with a punch. Mother knew what he was thinking of her right now.

Azriel stared at the boy, now snoring on the floor, with a slack face before looking up at her, and Elain could have sworn that his cheeks were red. “I- _wow_. I-I really don’t know what to say-I mean, you just took him out with a _single_ punch, I mean—”

“I, uh,” Elain cleared her throat nervously. “I know taekwondo.”

Azriel blinked owlishly at her. “You-you do?”

“Yeah, uh, my mom taught me.”

“Uh, cool. Cool.”

Elain nodded. “Yeah.”

Azriel cleared his throat uneasily. He was _definitely_ blushing. “You wanna get outta here?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Azriel gingerly held out his hand. “Let’s go.”

Elain didn’t hesitate to take it.

* * *

Azriel didn’t really know why, but to him, Elain had never looked more beautiful than when she had sunk her fist into Andras’s jaw, dislocating it with a crack that even made _him_ wince, considering that he had already broken his jaw twice before in basketball practice.

Honestly, it had felt as if he was falling in love with her all over again.

But now, her sitting next to him on the floor of an empty classroom, his jacket slung around her shoulders, well… he couldn’t exactly say that he didn’t like this either.

Her hair had unraveled from the messy bun that she had put it in, cascading in blonde waves and spilling over her shoulders. Her cheeks were slightly splotchy, the glitter she had smeared on them long gone, and flushed a brilliant red. When she looked up at him, Azriel was alarmed to see that her eyes were unnaturally bright.

“Hey-hey, are you okay—”

“Oh, yeah-yeah,” Elain sniffled, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. “Sorry, just got a little emotional. And a little high on adrenaline.”

“No, no, it's fine. I understand.”

Elain gave him a surprised look. “You do?”

Azriel sighed, his head falling back against the wall. “Yeah. Mor had an incident once, a couple of years ago.”

“Oh my god, I-I’m sorry, I don’t really know what to—”

Azriel shook his head. “She’s fine now. She’s strong like that. But it affected her. It affected all of us.”

Elain blinked at him, before turning back to look out the window that they both had been staring at. The moonlight streaming in was pale and weak, only brushing their toes, going no further. “Oh.”

They both fell into a silence, that continued to stretch until Azriel turned to her, and asked, “So, you learned taekwondo from your mom?”

“Yeah. She taught me and my sisters.”

“That’s nice. You’re good at it?”

“Nesta and I stopped after her death, but Feyre didn't. She participates in competitions sometimes, but she’s way more focused on her art and swimming.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.”

Another lapse of silence.

“I get high on adrenaline too.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” Azriel cracked a smile. “After a basketball game. Especially when we win. It feels like I could fly.”

Elain chuckled. “That sounds nice, except I suck at sports.”

“Nobody sucks at sports.”

“Well, you’ll find that I’m an exception.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Elain shifted ever so slightly so that her head fell on Azriel’s shoulder, and he was rewarded with the familiar scent of honey. “What were you doing there anyway? I thought you were there at the party.”

Azriel cleared his throat. “I, uh, I wanted to talk to you. About what happened. In the classroom.”

“About my tongue stud?”

Azriel licked his lips. “Yeah.”

Elain shifted again, this time turning to look at him. “Clare told me you didn’t hate piercings, but I couldn't help but feel like you did.”

“Oh, no no no,” Azriel said, shaking his head. “I don’t hate them. I was just, really, really—”

“Shocked?”

Elain must have taken his silence as a confirmation. “You know, she also told me you had a crush on me.”

Azriel’s heart lept into his throat. “S-she did?”

“She said that the entire school knew except for me.”

“Huh.”

Elain peered at him curiously. Her flush had disappeared, and so had the unnatural brightness. “Hey, do you wanna come to my dorm?”

“ _What?_ ”

“You know, to talk. Like, have a conversation. Clare says that I talk to my plants more than I talk to actual, other people.”

Azriel laughed nervously, his heart hammering painfully against his ribcage. “Uh, okay.”

Elain grinned. “Okay!”

 _Oh_. Azriel was _definitely_ falling in love with her again.

* * *

Azriel had read somewhere that tongue piercings enhanced oral sex.

Probably from one of the magazines that Mor owned.

But they had also left out the part where they felt _amazing_ during a kiss.

Case in point, the current situation: Elain’s mouth against his lips.

It was warm, wet, and _alive_ , with a shock of ice whenever she dragged her tongue against his teeth.

Oh yeah. It _definitely_ felt amazing.

* * *

Elain wasn’t sure how they ended up like this.

She had only brought them to her dorm to talk, she swore, and they _did_.

But then their phones ran out of battery, and they were sitting squished on her bed and Azriel was _right next to her_ , their sides pressed together and their legs intertwined, and then she was in his lap, _kissing him_ , and then they were lying on her bed, and he was doing this _very_ nice thing with his teeth, and yeah…

Elain was pretty sure she was in love with Azriel.

Now, they were just lying side by side, holding hands.

“Wait, so you're telling me you were _actually_ in love with me since you saw me?”

Azriel chuckled, running his thumb over her knuckles. “Yup.”

Elain grinned. “ _No way_. Oh my god, Azriel—”

“Az.”

“Huh?”

“You always call me Azriel. Call me Az.”

“Well, then, _Az_ , I only started seeing you as more than a friend, like, _last year_.”

“Damn, I’ve really been pining for quite some time.”

Elain giggled.

They lapsed in silence; the comforting kind. The one where you knew you were safe and nothing was going to disturb you.

Maybe it was that very same warmth. Maybe it was Azriel wrapping his arms around her, but Elain couldn’t help but _sleep_.

* * *

“Oh my god, _shut up!_ You’re going to wake them up!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Cassian, _turn your flash off!_ ”

“Shit, shit, sorry!”

“Ow! That was my foot!”

“Sorry, Amren!”

“Mother above, _they look so cute_!”

“Rhys, stop fangirling.”

“This is _such_ good leverage.”

“I know right?”

“Guys, stop _moving!_ My camera can't focus!”

“Sorry, Mor.”

* * *

Elain was warm. She was wrapped in the scent of cinnamon and something very distinctively like burnt sugar and she never wanted to leave.

But alas, the internal clock that she had pushed her body to follow was telling her to wake up, which meant that it was somewhere around five in the morning.

“Azriel? Az? You need to wake up.”

“Hm?” Azriel groggily rubbed his eyes, rising up on his forearms. “What time is it?”

Elain had always found Azriel’s voice nice. It was deep and husky and made heat crawl up her neck.

But right now, in the morning? _Wowzers_.

“It’s five. You need to get back to your dorm.”

“Oh yeah.”

With minimal hassle, they both managed to find Azriel’s shoes, which he had haphazardly kicked off the previous night. “Clare’s not back yet?”

Elain glanced at her dormmates’ side of the room, taking in her empty bed. “She probably had a hook-up. Here.” She held out Azriel’s jacket.

“No, no. You keep it.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Really?”

“Yeah. It looked good on you last night.”

And with a quick kiss, Azriel was off.

* * *

“So, Cinderella,” Clare called as she stepped into the dorm. “How was your night?”

“It was good,” Elain said looking up from her cup of tea. “It seems you got lucky.”

“Nah,” Clare replied, dropping her shoes near her desk. “I stayed over at Mor’s dorm.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I mean, it was pretty obvious that you and Azriel were busy.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Uh-huh. When I came back last night, you both were passed out on your bed.”

“And?”

“And, I did the most sensible thing. I called the rest of the Inner Circle.”

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Elain hissed, her eyes wide. “ _You didn’t._ ”

Clare grinned. “Oh yes, I did.”

“ _Gimme your phone!_ ”

“No! do you know how much trouble I went through to get those photos?! I stepped on Amren’s foot, Elain! _Amren's_ foot!”

“ _Clare Beddor, if you don’t give me your phone right now—_ ”

“You sure you don’t want to become an actress? I mean, you’d _definitely_ be able to play my mother.”

“ _Clare—_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> And the series has come to a wrap! A big thanks to sirgwaines on Tumblr for the prompt.
> 
> -Aztec


End file.
